


spread you like warpaint on my skin

by kimaracretak



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (sewing patterns into other peoples' skin version), Bloodplay, Body Horror, F/F, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessiveness, Smut as Character Work, needleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: Anna works. Delilah watches. Sylas adores them both.(Self-indulgent murdertrio sex. If you're looking for something else, go somewhere else.)





	spread you like warpaint on my skin

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by the _[shadow on bitterleaf](http://dishonored.wikia.com/wiki/The_Shadow_on_Bitterleaf)_ book from _dishonoured_
> 
> title from butcher babies, 'lilith'

If asked, Delilah thinks, she would say her favourite thing about Anna is her brain. It's what she pays the woman for, after all, clever thoughts and new designs for the coming world, all brought to life under Anna's deft hands.

It's those hands Delilah watches now, swift and sure as they dance across the pale expanse of her husband's bare chest, firelight glinting off Anna's needles and nails alike. She can't see the pattern from where she stands in the doorway, but watching, but Anna wholly absorbed in her craft is a thing of beauty equal to any of the designs she makes.

"There's more comfortable places to watch from, you know," Anna says, not looking up from her work.

The allure is there, as undeniable as the pull of thread through Sylas' skin as Anna's precise, tiny stitches continue. Still Delilah hesitates in the doorway. She knows Sylas has spent nights alone with Anna as she has, but the three of them together would mean something _different_ , would mean Anna really was more than one of the toys they used to pick up in Wildmount villages.

"Delilah." Now Anna does look up, rises to her knees and brings the needles with her, so sharply that Sylas's whole body jerks at the end of her threads. Delilah's gasp echoes her husband's. "Delilah. This is your penance too."

"My love," Sylas says, and Delilah gives into the pull, walks to the side of the bed with her gaze locked on his. He fits his hand to hers, laces their fingers together. "Look what she's done."

Delilah follows his line of sight down the taut line of his throat, the hairless planes of his chest. There's the beginnings of her name curling around the left side of his chest, jagged black peaks of dully gleaming thread like the Obsidian Tower where they met. Long silver threads loop down his side, forming a loose sort of ladder leading to the _A_ stitched into his hip.

Delilah smiles, taps the single letter. "I remember you resting there the night we left Wildmount," she says, walking her restless fingers back up the lines of Sylas' ribs and ignoring, for the moment, the tempting press of his exposed cock against the side of her hand. "Not such a good shot when we were moving, hm?"

Anna's needle flashes, too fast for Delilah to follow, and she sighs in pleasure as it sinks into the back of her hand.

"I seem to remember," Anna says slowly, and Delilah hears the rustling of sheets as she shifts behind her, watches as Sylas sweeps his thumb through the blood welling up around the needle pinning her hand over Sylas' heart, "That it was your fault we had to leave in the first place."

To that, Delilah has no ready answer, and Anna makes a small noise of satisfaction as she leans forward to reclaim her needle. Delilah can feel the warm crush of her breasts against her back despite the layers of fabrics between them. She pushes back, reaches out to grab Anna's thigh and smiles wider as the leather catches against the needlemark.

"You're in my way," Anna says, re-settling herself astride Sylas' knees. "And over-dressed."

She's not quite within reach for the slap Delilah aches to give her for her boldness, and the smile curling the corners of Anna's mouth confirm that her position was chosen for more than just the ease of her stitchcraft.

"So are you," she retorts irritably, and though in truth her choice was made from the moment she stepped into the room she spares one more glance for her husband — _the three of us? truly? / yes_ — before surrendering to the embrace of the velvet cushions piled on the window seat.

Delilah's dress isn't particularly elaborate today, but compared to her entirely naked husband, and to Anna in her breastband and short trousers, the velvet and lace feels more decadent than usual. She props her leg up and the bench and slowly, so slowly, drags the skirt up past her knee, the whisper of velvet on skin sending shocks down her spine.

She licks her lips at Sylas' moan, looks up to see him staring at her. Under Anna's weight and her needles, his head is all he _can_ move, and he's turned it just enough that he can see that she'd dispensed with undergarments before coming to find them.

He groans at the sight, and Delilah is more than a little smug that she can command his attention from the window, despite Anna's work. "You like that, don't you, my love?" she asks as she bunches her skirt around her waist, and Sylas nods, his hair tangling against the pillow.

"Lie _still_ ," Anna snaps, leaning over his body to the nightstand. She grabs a larger needle, this one unthreaded, and presses it into his temple in warning. "Or I'll tie you down for real. Stitch you to the bedsheets, til we're both satisfied with you."

"Excessive," Delilah murmurs, trailing her fingertips along the soft skin of her inner thigh while Sylas groans louder, hips bucking as he seeks a touch for his rapidly hardening cock. "But tempting," she has to admit. Anna laughs, just a shade colder than Delilah's used to hearing her in bed, and shifts further down Sylas' legs.

"Perhaps later," she says thoughtfully, and the word thrills through Delilah's veins. _Later_. It's easy to think about it now, now that Whitestone is theirs and work on the temple excavation is progressing. For her Undying King she can be patient, and with Sylas and Anna at her side perhaps she won't even notice the wait. "I should teach your lady wife how to sew you down first."

Delilah sits straight up in shock at that, hardly noticing that she's wet enough for the brocade covering of the bench to be uncomfortable against her bare cunt. "Impertinent bitch. Some of us had a real education, if you recall."

Anna finally looks at her: a victory, one made sweeter by the rage darkening her eyes. "How _dare_ you," she hisses. For a moment Delilah thinks she might have tempted her away from the bed entirely, but then Sylas' hands come up to close over her thighs, holding her in place, and she makes no attempt to leave his grip.

"What were you going to do?" Delilah asks, with only mostly-feigned curiosity. "Sew my mouth shut? We both know you wouldn't." It's a secret she's kept, that Anna likes being held down and kissed speechless. She wonders if Sylas has found out the same, or if his worshipful nature distracts him in bed with Anna too, and he takes his time exploring every inch of skin.

Well, that's the beauty of tonight, she thinks, as Anna huffs in exasperation and turns back to her needles, though not before dragging a teasing finger up the length of Sylas' cock as if to drive home the fact that for the moment, he's still at her mercy. Tonight, she gets to _see_.

Anna hums softly as she gets back to work — terribly off-key, though when Delilah rolls her eyes there's more fondness in it than she would admit. It helps, too, that's Anna's changed position — she's astride Sylas' waist now as the black letters of Delilah's name march towards his shoulder, and though it blocks Delilah's view of his cock, it also means that every time Anna looks up to change needles, she has to watch Delilah touch herself.

It's that knowledge that spurs her to somewhat abandon her previous teasing, and she leans back and hikes just the front of her skirt up again. The dress is more comfortable than the window seat, and she can have a servant take care of the dress tomorrow.

"Sylas," she hums, half a whisper as she sucks thoughtfully on a fingertip, reaches down to trace it in thoughtful light circles over her clit.

He turns to look again, too fast, and he moans as the needle still in his temple is driven further in as it presses against the pillow.

"Stop _distracting_ him." Delilah notices her shift to their shared arcane language too late to do anything more than bring up her hand to stop the needles flung by Anna's mage hand before they can reach her face. The pain is _good_ though, tempered by satisfaction that Anna's finally managed the cantrip.

"Control him better, then," she smirks, flicking the blood starting to trace its way down her wrist back towards Anna, and making a satisfied noise when a few drops manage to land on her cheek. As if to prove her point, Sylas braces his hands on the mattress and arches up to lick the blood off of Anna's face.

The furious noise Anna makes in response is _intoxicating_. Delilah bites her lip and slips one of her unbloodied fingers into her cunt as Anna watches, temporarily transfixed by the movement of her hand even as Sylas takes advantage of his half-sitting position to swiftly unbind Anna's breasts.

"Maybe it's you who needs to stop _getting_ distracted, Anna," she taunts, spreading her legs wider as Anna swallows hard. Sylas lets himself fall back to the pillows even as he, too, still watches, rocking his hips gently against Anna's ass.

Anna narrows her eyes, but Delilah can _see_ the change in her breathing now. "I'm not the problem."

"Yes, you are." Delilah rocks almost lazily into her own hand. "If you wanted me —" she breaks off into a gasp "— you should have found me first tonight. As it is ... _multitask_." Her voice sharpens into an order on the last word, an unsubtle reminder that she holds very real power even outside their play.

Anna growls, stabbing back into Sylas' shoulder with enough force to draw blood. His hips jerk as Anna's legs tighten around him, and Delilah struggles to keep her breath under control, the pace of her finger even.

But she can tell that for all her control in her workshop, Anna too is struggling here. Her chest is flushed a gorgeous dark pink, and the stitches of the _a_ in Delilah's name are shaky as Sylas's blood starts to seep into the thread. Delilah yearns to get her mouth on either of them in that moment, to bite Anna back to concentration, to kiss over the blood and sweat and thread that are living proof of Sylas' continued place at her side.

Instead, she brushes her thumb over her clit, and lets herself tip ever so slightly over the edge. It does almost nothing for the tight coil of arousal low in her stomach, but she moans at the welcome soft wash of pleasure anyway, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

Sylas makes a low, needy sound, the one he usually makes right before she sinks down on his cock and welcomes him home. Anna is silent, and in the half-second before she opens her eyes Delilah wonders if her lips are bitten bloody with the effort of keeping silent yet. She rather hopes they are, for Sylas' sake: Anna never did like to beg.

"Do hurry, Anna," Delilah says, sliding a little deeper into the pile of cushions and adding a second finger. Her other hand dips into the bodice of her dress, pinches a stiff nipple with bloody fingers. "It's rude to keep us waiting."

"Some things shouldn't be rushed," Anna says. But her voice trembles, and even the vicious kiss she presses to Sylas' lips before she smooths a hand down his chest to finish the last two letters can hide that.

For long moments the room is quiet. Delilah lets her eyes drift shut again, listens to Sylas' deep breaths, Anna's uneven ones, the wet slide of her own fingers against her skin. And below it all, the soft sounds of needle and thread through skin, marking Sylas as _theirs_.

"There," Anna finally says in triumph, tying off the last knot and snapping the thread with her teeth. "Have I pleased you?"

"Yes," Sylas murmurs, ignoring her sarcasm to rub her hard through her trousers. Anna keens low with satisfaction.

"It is fine work," Delilah agrees. The black and silver threads stand out even more nicely now against the blush creeping down Sylas' chest. Anna is the first one of their toys in a long while to affect him so.

Anna smirks at the praise as she stands up to unceremoniously dispense with her leggings and underthings. "And yet you're not coming over to admire my work." She throws her clothes towards the wall, and Delilah catches her underthings much more gracefully than she had caught the needles earlier.

All three of them watch Delilah rub her fingers over the crotch of Anna's smallclothes, mixing her own blood with Anna's arousal. They're wet enough that she has to admit a grudging respect for the amount of focus Anna had kept on her stitchcraft. She looks to Anna, sweat starting to bead on her skin, and then to her husband, quiet and obedient in bed. She can admire the full details of the pattern later.

"Not yet," Delilah decides. "Come here."

Anna complies, still smirking. There's no room for her on the bench, but when Delilah glances at the floor she kneels, and props an elbow next to Delilah's hip.

"A reward," Delilah says simply, dropping Anna's smallclothes and offering her fingers coated in mingled blood and arousal. There's a flash of hunger in Anna's eyes before she opens her mouth eagerly for Delilah's fingers. Delilah moans at the warm welcome of Anna's lips, watches Sylas slowly stroke himself and wonders whether it might be worth turning Anna as well, in a few years.

Anna gives one last suck to her fingers before drawing back, looking up curiously for another order.

"Other hand," Delilah says, slipping her fingers from her cunt to press them against Anna's mouth.

Anna grins, parts her lips slightly, and then, before Delilah can react, dives forward to lick a long stripe up her cunt, ending with a sharp graze of her teeth over Delilah's clit.

Delilah yelps in shock, thighs clamping around Anna's head as she comes again, harder than the first time. Anna pulls back with shining lips and smug pleasure dancing in her eyes, as if daring Delilah to punish her.

She considers it, for a moment — it wouldn't do for Anna to get too cocky. But then she catches sight of Sylas on the bed, cock surely painfully hard now and obviously leaking, and decides there's something else she wants more.

"Kiss him," Delilah orders, dragging her still-slick fingers across Anna's cheek in lieu of making her lick them clean. "I want to watch you together. Prove to me why you should be allowed this too."

"You make it sound so difficult," Anna says, before biting Delilah's lip none too gently in farewell. Delilah hums in pleasure at the taste of herself, rakes her nails across Anna's ass as the woman walks back to the bed, hips swaying just enough to be on purpose.

Anna spreads her legs as she bends to kiss Sylas, and Delilah can see the curls between her thighs glistening in the candlelight. She grits her teeth at the unsubtle tease. "Anna," she says in warning, as Sylas groans at the taste of his wife on Anna's tongue buries his hands in the long brown fall of her hair.

"I know," Anna says, climbing back onto the bed and kneeling up over Sylas. "You were good, overall, weren't you?" She grasps his cock in one hand, presses the other to her initial sewn into his hip. "Look at your lady wife. Look what we do to her."

And he does, eyes locked on Delilah's as Anna slowly, slowly sinks down onto him. Delilah leans forward, heedless of the slick mess between her thighs smearing across her dress. "You're so _very_ pretty," she says, and with a start she realises she truly does mean both of them, and both of them together.

Anna hums in agreement, working her hips against Sylas' in sharp thrusts, and, "My love," Sylas says, even as he digs his nails deeply enough into Anna's hips that Delilah can see him draw blood.

Anna is as quiet in her pleasure as she had been in her sewing. Truly, Delilah isn't sure that Anna hadn't gotten more enjoyment out of her stitchcraft than of sex, the intricate act of picking apart skin and thread and piecing them back together with something else's bones more a treat for her than anything physical could be.

But Sylas isn't quiet, not when Anna is content to ride his cock and grip the loose laddered threads snaking down his sides and leave his mouth free. For a moment Delilah is tempted to join them, give her beloved something useful to do with his mouth, but his cries of pleasure-pain are too lovely to stifle. She settles for lying back among the cushions, pulling her skirt back up so she fill herself again with the fingers Anna had licked clean.

Delilah fucks herself lazily, content to watch and to know they're both watching her, but she knows how long Sylas was kept waiting for, and how long he's likely to last.

"Together, my love," she says, and Sylas, darling man, knows exactly what she means, reaches down to where he's joined with Anna to press his fingers against her too. "Good," she whispers, and even the thought of what's to come has her growing wetter still, aching for _more_.

On the window seat, she has no leverage to thrust harder against her fingers, settles for pressing a fourth finger in, groaning as her cunt stretches nearly to the point of pain.

But it's the _best_ sort of pain, as she feels the weight of their eyes on her, the air thick with the scent of blood and sex, and she drinks in the sight of her lovers moving together in perfect synchronicity, there's nowhere else she would rather be.

"Darling," Sylas says, and though he's looking at her, Delilah is suddenly sure he's talking to both of them, hips stuttering as he presses into Anna again and again and _again_. And she is so very pleased.

"I know," Delilah reassures him, "I know, darling, I —" And with one last graze of her thumbnail over her clit she comes one last time, arching against the pillows. She can hear Sylas cry out as he, too, comes, still and flushed under Anna, and Anna's laughter as she shivers and rakes her nails down his chest, catching on her stitches along the way.

Delilah comes down from her high slowly before standing on shaky legs to go to Sylas and finally offer him her hand. Anna makes no move to get up off his cock, but does reach down to run sharp nailed fingers through Delilah's hair as Sylas sucks contentedly at her fingers.

"Next time," Anna says, voice dark with promise. "Next time, you're my canvas."

"Impertinent bitch," Delilah says again.

But this time her voice is languid with pleasure of her third orgasm, and all three know that, this time, she doesn't mean to be cruel.


End file.
